


The Telling of the Tale, Pt. 3

by gypsyweaver



Series: A Tale of Crowns and Coins [32]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Hell is Terrible (Good Omens), M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Nonbinary Character, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Trauma, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28711959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gypsyweaver/pseuds/gypsyweaver
Summary: Beelzebub continues their tale, moving into the beginning of the war. Perhaps making the former Archangel of Compassion into a war general was ill-advised, but that's precisely what Lucifer does.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens)
Series: A Tale of Crowns and Coins [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684990
Kudos: 11





	The Telling of the Tale, Pt. 3

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreenJavelin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenJavelin/gifts).



> CW: Abuse, blood, PTSD, invasive memories

Gabriel shifted in his chair, and Beelzebub wondered if he was uncomfortable. Either with their story, or simply his awareness that this same chair--which had served him admirably for something like four decades--had ended up inside him for a few hours this day. This overlong day.

The next part was going to be difficult. The memories of blood and burnt feathers, the tremble of a corporation as it gave up the spirit within. Beelzebub’s own breath in soft pants as they ran through the field, wounded too badly to fly and unable to take wing as a swarm.

And the warmer memory of violet eyes that pleaded above a mouth pooling blood...

“The war,” Beelzebub continued. “Thankfully, I had very little to do with it...with the actual fighting.”

“You took a wound,” Crowley said.

“I did,” Beelzebub agreed. “But between the first part--the planning phase--and the last part, when I was gathering the survivors...I was not involved. Well, not much...”

Their voice faltered. They sighed.

“I was not made for war, but I am a very efficient killer,” they said. “God’s orders on me, Her first orders--we all know that She changes Her mind--those first orders...I was never supposed to hurt my siblings. Never. So, Lucifer’s war plans were...unexpected.”

The Starhanger’s lips grew thin and he looked down.

“I was still wounded. I had no help, as Dagon had not yet Fallen. Lucifer kicked me and called me pathetic, told me to speed along my healing unless I wanted him to do it again. He said that he would have his war.” They shook their head. “He said Raphael would never have made him wait. And I told him that he didn’t know the same Raphael that I did. Thankfully, my larynx was still crushed, so not much sound came out.” They smiled, and it was a bitter little thing. “He did not hear my words. Small miracles, I suppose.”

“Beez...” Crowley croaked. “I never knew.”

Beelzebub saw Gabriel startle. He must find it more than passing strange to hear his own endearment come from Crowley’s lips. It was Crowley’s word before it was Gabriel’s, though that was not an observation that would help this situation.

Beelzebub squeezed Gabriel’s hand and that brought his focus back to them.

“It doesn’t matter now, Crowley. You couldn’t have changed anything. You and the rest fled from Lucifer’s rage, and as long as I kept his attention...I thought...Raphael prepared me for pain, and I didn’t want any of you hurt. I was supposed to care for you. That’s my purpose...what I was made for.” They looked down. “It was forever and forever ago. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

“Lucifer did as he pleased with me, and it always pleased him to hurt me,” they said. “I was a disappointment. I could not undo God’s redesign of his form. I wasn’t fast enough in healing myself to please him. Lucifer thought I was prolonging the healing willingly, so that I could put off his further orders. He screamed that at me--called me lazy and useless--and he kept kicking and stomping.” Gabriel squeezed their hand and they gave him a wan grin. “Those hooves are unforgiving. I thought I was discorporating.”

They paused, and even their breath seemed to weigh them down. They took a deep breath and continued.

“I wasn’t discorporating. I was changing,” they explained. “Our animal forms are defensive, and Lucifer scared me sufficiently for me to change. I became my swarm, and Lucifer...well, he panicked.”

They wondered what it must have looked like to a witness, had there been any. Them, a swarm of insects, and Lucifer attempting to beat them with fists and hooves.

“His fists went through me, but he kept swinging. I wasn’t trying to harm him--just to speak to him. But he couldn’t understand me, and my form clearly frightened him, so he kept kicking and punching at me. I didn’t wish to frighten my master, so I recorporated. Unfortunately...he’d swallowed one of my insects. Of course, that’s the one that I recorporated from. The one inside of him.”

“Inside...him...?” Aziraphale asked.

“He exploded...” Beelzebub explained. “Milton made more of it in that dreadful poem of his. Gave me a whole speech and an entire rebellion, but that’s not at all how it happened. Uriel wasn’t there, so she made it all up. She whispered her own version--overblown and overdramatic--into John Milton’s sleeping ear.”

A memory returned, like how a symphony will ring through the mind after the pluck of a few notes. The memory was not of Lucifer’s cruelty, but later, as the war wound down and they’d been picking through the battered corporations of their fellows, searching for survivors.

The memory of Lucifer's explosive discorporation brought them violently back to Michael's.

Beelzebub remembered healing Moloch of a gaping belly wound and sending him off as two Archangels crashed into the little copse that they'd dragged Moloch into. They heard the Archangels before they saw them. Remembered the white-hot pain of Raphael’s hands, tearing their new wings from their back as Sandalphon watched and laughed. They remembered Michael and Gabriel joining their fellows, and Michael's quick spear-thrust. They remembered the look on her face as she’d missed Beelzebub and buried the spear shaft deep in Raphael’s belly.

They remembered the smell of the trees as they ran, wings fractured and dangling useless until they reached around and finished Raphael’s work. They remembered the hot wetness of blood across their back as they fled.

Finally, they recalled Gabriel in the dappled sun of the glen where he and Michael had run them to the ground. He remembered his face, so cold and so fierce as he stabbed at them with his spear. They remembered his face, the cold smile that graced his features as he cornered them against a tree. As Michael drew her sword and told Gabriel to step aside and allow her to finish them.

Gabriel had been close enough to be splattered by Michael as she fell, discorporated in the same fashion that Beelzebub had discorporated her twin. He’d been close enough for Beelzebub to see his pupils dilate as they recorporated from their swarm. As they regarded him, waiting for him to attack. Begging him silently not to.

They dismissed the memory and continued with their tale. They would visit the blood-soaked glen in their story, and soon.

“I recorporated, and Lucifer’s essence was floating beside his exploded corporation. His essence demanded that I heal his flesh. I did.” They smiled a joyless little smile. “Turning into a swarm heals me, as you’ll recall, Gabriel. Healing Lucifer was much easier without a head injury.”

“Why heal him?” Gabriel asked. "He was discorporated and defenseless, wasn't he?"

“Yes, but he was my master.” They shrugged. “I obeyed.”

“Did he hit you again?” Crowley asked.

“No. Not that day.” They looked down. “He said that he was the king of all of Hell, and that I was the closest that he was going to have to a queen. That he shouldn’t have punished me for God’s deception. A great throne rose up on the shores, and he sat upon it. He picked me up, and set me in his lap. He told me...he told me how he had acquired me.”

“How he acquired you?” Aziraphale asked.

Beelzebub nodded. “His split with God was fairly amicable. She provided him with a kingdom and subjects. He would need a healer. God allowed him to choose, and he chose me.” They paused. “Though, in the end, all of us Fell. All of the healers became demons, except Raphael and you, Aziraphale.”

“Oh...” Aziraphale said.

“God, though, did not wish for Raphael to believe that She had any hand in Lucifer’s choice. God and Lucifer decided to trick Raphael, to make it seem as if Raphael had lost me through his own actions.”

“How did they do it?” Aziraphale asked.

“Lucifer pulled out a coin. This one,” Beelzebub said, drawing a golden coin from their pocket. They slipped it over each knuckle in turn, the light glimmering dangerously off of the faces as it turned. They held it out to Aziraphale, who took it, and they continued.

“The coin has a miracle on it,” they said. “Whichever side that Raphael chose would be the wrong one. Lucifer simply went to Raphael when he was alone, which was often, as I was sneaking away to watch you, Aziraphale.” They smiled, a shy show of teeth. “Lucifer explained to Raphael that he required a healer, and that it would either be him or me. He allowed Raphael to put his fate in God’s hands. He bet on a coin flip, and blamed himself for my Fall.”

“That’s insidious,” Aziraphale gasped.

“That’s about right for Her, isn’t it?” Crowley responded, benignly.

“It is,” Beelzebub agreed. “But Lucifer was quite proud of the way that things had turned out, and he apologized again for hurting me. He told me that he not very kingly in that moment, and that he needed my assistance for what was to come. The War.”

They chewed their lip, and then continued.

“I didn’t want it. He explained to me what must be done, and told me that I would fight. I was not supposed to hurt my siblings. But he said...Lucifer said...that he was my master and I would obey.” They closed their eyes and the tears slipped from them. Gabriel squeezed their hand, and they swallowed. “He said that discorporation was easily remedied, as I had just proven. So, if they were merely discorporated, it was not harm. It was not lasting. And it was his command to me, besides.”

“You followed it,” Crowley said, gravely. “I remember the tales told...”

“Didn’t you see?” Aziraphale asked, and then answered his own question. “Oh...you weren’t there! You were in the Garden.”

Beelzebub smiled, a tight grin. “My little wrinkle.”

“Your what?” Gabriel asked.

“If there was to be a war, and I was going to be a general of that war, I wanted some say in it,” Beelzebub said. “Lucifer gave me command, and I commanded.”

Crowley chuckled, and Beelzebub joined in. It felt good to be able to laugh with their old friend, though they could feel Gabriel and Aziraphale staring.

“Lucifer gave me command,” Beelzebub explained. “He still had me on his lap. He was...calmer. Almost kind. He touched me on the head and gave me a robe to wear.”

It was the color of the night between the stars, and it was heavy and beautiful. Their wings, the new ones, had no feathers. But the light of the lake shattered in their membranes, and the rainbows from their wings shimmered darkly on the robes.

“It was the first gift that I’d ever been given, and it was a fine thing,” they said. “He told me that he had another gift for me, of knowledge. I said that I was his to command, and he commanded me to close my eyes. He kissed me.”

It was not like the kisses that Raphael had given them. Raphael’s actions dripped of need. If a kiss could be a command, that’s what Lucifer did. They remembered the heat of his lips. The way his mouth opened theirs, and the way that he held their head in place as he pushed and pushed and pushed...

They never felt stronger than they did beneath Lucifer's hooves, and they never felt weaker than they did in his lap. His hand wrapped around their skull, capable of shattering it like an egg--like the skull of a baby bird.

“In that kiss, he transferred everything that he knew about Heaven, Hell, and Earth. He also gave me my orders. He wanted the humans destroyed.”

They remembered the flow of words and images and, above everything, pain. They remembered being forced open, his hands holding them steady as his lips parted theirs. They remembered Lucifer’s darkness entering them, filling them. His knowledge, his rage, his betrayal, his pain. And his plan.

They’d taken all of it in, a staggering amount of information and emotion.

After, Lucifer had thumbed the tears from their cheeks, and kissed them on the forehead.

“The time will come when I will make use of you,” he’d said, a hand drifting to their belly, and then below, to rest over their womb. “You will give me a son, and he will give us the keys to Heaven.”

“I am your servant,” they had said, thousands of years before a Nazarene virgin would whimper the same words to Gabriel in the dark of her father’s home. “I shall obey.”

And Lucifer, for that brief moment, was pleased with them.

“Give me my war, Remiel,” he’d said. “Lead my armies. Destroy the humans.”

“As you say,” they had replied.

The second kiss was different from the first, and closer to what they knew from Raphael. If a kiss could be a cage, that’s what the second kiss felt like.

Beelzebub never knew freedom. They’d been shackled to Raphael from their creation, and then to Lucifer. Oh, but they found ways to wear Lucifer’s chains loosely. This is the purpose that God gave them--what they were made for. To serve. To obey.

It’s just that Lucifer and Beelzebub had very different ideas about what it meant to destroy the humans.

The others were staring at them, and Beelzebub realized that they’d stopped speaking.

“When he kissed me,” they said, “he gave me detailed information on every angel and every demon. He gave me his desires, which was only one desire. He wanted the humans destroyed. He wanted Heaven in shambles. He wanted God to pay for what She did to him.”

“That’s how you knew to come to me,” Crowley said.

“Yes,” Beelzebub said. “You were the only one capable of destroying the humans without killing them.”

“You knew he could get them to eat my apples!” Aziraphale exclaimed.

“I did,” they said, with a gentle nod. “I knew he was the only one of the bunch capable of making the right kind of trouble.”

**Author's Note:**

> For GreenJavelin, who liked the rest! Thanks!
> 
> Erg...long time, no update? Sorry about that. Two of my chronic illnesses have advanced. I've been sick. 
> 
> I'm not even going to hazard a guess as to when I'll get the next chapter out, but I've written half of it, so yay?
> 
> I didn't see anything that seemed to require further explanation that's not going to be further explained later. 
> 
> Comments and kudos make me happy.


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